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I kept reading about people winning loads of money on the lottery. Every time I opened the paper there was another story about some dinner lady who was now a millionaire. It seemed like a common occurrence. So I decided to spend my entire allowance on National Lottery scratch cards. It took me a long time to decide which ones to buy. Some are £1, some are £2, some are £5 and some are £10. I had £50. Meanwhile a queue was forming behind me and the newsagent was becoming increasingly impatient. In the end I just said “Give me 10 of each”. The newsagent seemed astonished, and when he rang it up he asked me to give him £280. I didn’t have enough so I started scratching the cards as quickly as I could, that way I could pay him the difference with some of my winnings. But the newsagent got angry. He was very rude, as were some of the people in the queue behind me. So I decided to take my business elsewhere and I told them all to stuff it. But the newsagent wouldn’t let me leave until I paid for the cards I had already tampered with. I’d managed to scratch 3 of the £10 cards, 2 of the £5, 4 of the £2 and a £1. I had to pay £49. When I got outside I finished scratching my 10 lottery cards (for in my enthusiasm I hadn’t scratched out any of them fully). They were all duds except one. I broke even on the £1 scratch card. Yes! I marched straight back into the newsagents and waved the card proudly in the newsagent’s face. He sighed heavily before asking me if I wanted the £1 in cash or another scratch card. I opted for another scratch card. This time I didn’t win anything. I wasn’t bothered though because I still had some of my allowance left. Thanks anyway. Bye

I knew she wasn’t the best looking woman in town, and her conversational skills were poor, and she did not have a GSOH, and she couldn’t cook, but I married her anyway. Everyone kept saying things like “What on earth are you doing?” and “Don’t do it!” But I did it anyway. I thought she was alright, really. A bit hairy and dim-witted, sure, but then so am I, apparently. And yes, she was incredibly temperamental and aggressive, but at the time I just thought that meant she was ‘spunky’. You know, feisty, like a Latino, and therefore good in bed (this was not the case, as it turned out). It wasn’t until we returned from our honeymoon – when the police got involved, and I was handcuffed and taken to the police station – that I learned that she was in fact a silverback gorilla. They took her away from me. They said our marriage was void. They said it was unnatural. Thanks anyway. Bye

I tried to call her via satellite but she was not in international water yet. Or perhaps she was and I wasn’t. Whatever it was it didn’t work. I rang the operator but there was no answer, which was odd. Were all the operators dead? It seemed highly unlikely. They’re probably on strike, I decided. So I went on Facebook and fraped myself. It was a good one about how I like to have sex with pigs and gay farmers. I think everyone knew it was me though. After an hour I had no likes and one comment, an estranged school friend informing me I was sad. I told him to eff off. Thanks anyway. Bye

I plugged the plug into the socket but it fell apart. I tried to glue it but it was useless. I tried to jam the bits in and tape it but I just ended up getting sucked into the modem. Fibre-optics or something. I dunno. I climbed out and stuck a banana into the hole and it worked. Thanks anyway. Bye